


thinking of us

by notmykink



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Getting Together, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Not Actually Unrequited Love, slight exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-05 23:47:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11024127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmykink/pseuds/notmykink
Summary: “Wait, are you—are you jerking off?” Hajime asks, suddenly, and Tooru’s grip around his cock tightens.He’s been figured out, and for some reason he’s just as turned on as he’s ashamed, if not more.





	thinking of us

**Author's Note:**

> sequel to [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11019198)
> 
> once again unedited, sorry! but my friend did read this through for me bc i was like "can i even post this lol" so thank u my beloved friend who saved my ass <3  
> hope you enjoy!

While in school and during practice, Tooru is too busy trying to act normal to  _ really _ think of what happened the day before and how he feels about it. When he’s home alone again after school, it’s another story. There’s no distractions keeping him from thinking of Hajime and how he pretty much came from being on a phone call with his best friend while touching himself. 

He stares at his phone for a while, thinking of how close they’ve always been through the years, how close they still are. Never more than a phone call away, usually closer than that. A part of Tooru thinks that the progression of his feelings were only natural, another part of him feels bad for tainting the pure image of their shared memories with his fantasies of fucking his friend in his childhood bed while his parents are in the next room, but he can’t help himself. Tooru  _ really _ likes the idea of Hajime attempting to hold back from making sounds, having trouble with doing so because Tooru is  _ that _ good at pleasuring him. Tooru really wants to make Hajime feel good. 

Instead, he does the only thing he can without pulling Hajime into it unwillingly and he pulls off his trousers, grabbing his pillow and pressing it against his groin. 

The first time Tooru almost outed the fact that he wanted to fuck his best friend wasn’t what happened yesterday - it happened one day after practice, when the two of them were cleaning up the equipment room. Tooru had said some dumb joke to get a rise out of Hajime as usual and it had quickly turned into a wrestling match, taking place on the huge jumping mattress belonging to the gymnastics team, but somehow Tooru had ended up on top of Hajime, straddling him and their crotches pressed against each other in a slightly too suggestive way, and Tooru had rolled off instantly as if shocked, pressing his knees together painfully hard to hide the hard-on that was growing at rapid speed. That was the first time he actually jerked off in a school bathroom, and Hajime had reprimanded him for running off after, too oblivious to notice just why Tooru had reacted like that.

Tooru presses the pillow down between his legs, grinding against it as he thinks of the memory. Even if the unlikely thing happened and Hajime  _ did _ want him too, Tooru doubts that he’d ever let Tooru fuck him in the equipment room, but that’s part of the beauty of the fantasy: Hajime letting Tooru do things he’d never normally go along with, Tooru making sure he doesn’t regret his choice by fucking him properly into that stupid jumping mattress until he cries out Tooru’s name. 

Tooru rolls over to lie on his stomach, humping the pillow more fervently, pressing his face into the sheet as he feels pools of heat collect between his legs, the muscles in his stomach twisting and flexing, begging him for more friction than simply humping a pillow. He rolls back to the side, pushing down his boxers while pouring out a bit of cream into his hand before grabbing his cock, pumping it slowly. 

He turns his face to the side, eyeing his phone as he remembers what happened yesterday, how Hajime sounded  when he picked up the phone. Tooru tightens his grip, pumping harder. He wonders what Hajime would do if he was there with him, if Hajime felt the same. He imagines Hajime just  _ watching _ at first as Tooru touches himself, tries to straighten out his expression and look as attractive as possible while his face is twisted in pleasure, and he imagines Hajime enjoying the sight, being just as attracted to Tooru as he is to Hajime.

Tooru imagines Hajime listening to him. The sound of his skin sliding against skin, his troubled breathing and his utterances of Hajime’s name that comes out from instinct rather than a conscious thought. Hajime kind of did listen to him do it last night, Tooru thinks, and suddenly he gets an idea. A horrible idea.

He reaches out for the phone with his free hand and calls Hajime instantly, so used to pressing his friend’s name on the call screen that it’s basically muscle memory. 

This is a bad idea, he knows. 

This is a bad idea, he thinks as he hears the first beep. 

This is a  _ really fucking _ bad idea, he thinks as the call is picked up right after the second beep.

“Iwa-chan,” Tooru breathes out, smiling. He presses his thumb against his slit, imagining Hajime sitting on his own bed at home, wondering if he’s ever caught Hajime jerking off while calling him. Wonders if Hajime thinks of him when jerking off too.

_ “Oikawa?” _ Hajime asks, sounding distracted, as if he’s doing something else, maybe attempting to do his homework or playing a game.  _ “I was just thinking of calling you,” _ Hajime says, chuckling before he continues, not knowing the power of his words. Tooru takes a deep breath. _ “Remember that horrible old ufo t-shirt you’ve been looking for?”  _ Hajime sounds slightly amused as he asks this, and Tooru loves when he’s like this, talking about nothing in particular, free of worries.

“Mh, yeah I do,” Tooru says, slowing down the rhythm as he tries to focus on Hajime’s voice. 

_ “I pulled on a random t-shirt after changing out of my uniform and didn’t realise it was yours until my mom asked if you had given it to me,” _ Hajime says, and Tooru’s eyes widens. His mental image of Hajime, lying on his bed while talking on the phone, becomes more specific now as he imagines Hajime in one of his favourite t-shirts. Maybe it’ll smell like Hajime now. What if Hajime had sniffed at it, hoping that it still had some traces of Tooru left on it? Tooru groans, pumping harder at his cock.  _ “Did you say something?” _ Hajime asks, and Tooru clears his throat, humming in reply.

“No, nothing,” he says innocently, pressing his lower lip in between his teeth and biting down to keep from making too much noise as he continues to pump at his cock, his hips jerking slightly up into his hand. For a while, none of them say anything, and Tooru can hear Hajime move around in the background, settling down.

_ “Wait, are you—are you jerking off? _ ” Hajime asks, suddenly, and Tooru’s grip around his cock tightens. 

He’s been figured out, and for some reason he’s just as turned on as he’s ashamed, if not more. He exhales shakily, saying nothing as he listens to Hajime’s breathing, waiting for him to say something. But Hajime keeps silent as well, obviously expecting an answer from Tooru. Tooru shudders, his hips jerking upwards as he thrusts into his hand, and he has to slow down not to come right then and there.

Is this some sick form of exhibitionism? Is Tooru getting off at the thought of bringing his unsuspecting friend and secret love into his dirty escapades?

“Yes,” Tooru breathes out, and he can hear Hajime smack his hand over his mouth through the phone.

“ _ Holy fuck, Tooru,” _ Hajime replies, his voice muffled under his fingers, too shocked to sound mad or disgusted just yet. Tooru bites his lower lip so hard it goes slightly numb, trying to imagine how Hajime must be looking right now, lying on his bed, scandalised, hopefully a bit turned on. 

“Say my name again,” Tooru whispers, no longer trying to hide his ragged breathing, and he can hear Hajime hitch for his breath again.

“ _ You’re—you’re really—you’re thinking of  _ me? _ ” _ he asks, and once again he sounds so  _ surprised _ , unsure, rather than actually having formed an opinion on what Tooru is doing. Tooru chuckles, husky and dark.

“I always think of you,” Tooru admits, looking down at himself, his cock flushed, the precum dripping from the tip, and he wants  _ more. _ He moves the phone so it rests between his shoulder and cheek and reaches for the cream, stops touching himself for a second to pour out a bit more of it before putting it back, spreading the cream onto his hands. He grabs his cock again, but reaches down with his other hand to his entrance, pressing at it impatiently.

_ “You never told me,”  _ Hajime says, as if he’d actually expect Tooru to do that.

“‘Hey, Iwa-chan, I get off on the thought of having sex with you,’ isn’t really a normal conversation-starter,” Tooru says, pressing in the tip of his pointer finger. Hajime snorts at the other end of the line, but doesn’t reply. “Do you hate me now?” he asks, and he’s met with less than a second of violence before Hajime breathes out, exasperated.

_ “Of course not, idiot,”  _ he replies, and Tooru presses in the second knuckle of his finger past the rim with a soft hiss. Hajime exhales again, louder than necessary.  _ “I don’t know why you think calling me while doing it is a better way to tell me,” _ Hajime then adds, and for the first time, they both chuckle slightly. Tooru feels his shoulders relax a bit.

“Would you prefer a proper confession with chocolates and everything?” he asks, thrusting his finger inside himself, wondering if Hajime knows that he touches himself like this too. Wonders if Hajime wonders about it. If Hajime is imagining him doing it.

_ “So it’s—so you like me?” _ Hajime asks, and this time Tooru’s laughter is harsh, impatient, as he wonders just how oblivious Hajime can be. Maybe he shouldn’t be surprised, since Hajime never noticed before.

“Yes,” Tooru says, pulling his finger out so he can press the second one inside him as well, licking his lips. “I’m in love with you, and I think about fucking you regularly. Or, like right now, you fucking me,” he says. Hajime chokes on something on the other end of the line, and Tooru presses his fingers in further, a bit too fast, but it feels so good and tight, and he imagines Hajime being the one touching him, not himself. 

_ “Tooru,”  _ Hajime says, his voice cracking slightly, and for the first time in forever, Tooru has trouble reading his tone. Is Hajime finally realising what’s going on and getting disgusted with him? Is he about to cry over how Tooru has just broken a lifelong friendship? Is he… turned on?  _ “Tooru,”  _ Hajime whispers again, his voice growing thinner, his breathing just as unsteady as Tooru’s. Tooru closes his eyes, and he’s suddenly happy this is just a phone call, because he can stay in his fantasy, act like Hajime wants him back, that he’s just as turned on. He tries to imagine the fingers going in and out of him as Hajime’s, not his own, and he curls them slightly, biting his lip in an attempt at holding back the whimper. Judging from the sudden silence on the other side of the call, he doesn’t succeed in hiding it.

A fantasy can only last that long before you return to reality, though, and Tooru doesn’t want to test the limits. “Sorry, Iwa-chan,” he whispers before reaching up with the hand that had been on his cock the whole time, and he dries the sweat that has gathered on his forehead off before grabbing the phone.

“ _ Tooru, wait— _ “ Hajime begins, but Tooru cuts him off before he can end that sentence, too close to an orgasm to want it all to fall apart just now. He can deal with the aftermath after, but for now he’ll stay in the world where Hajime has yet to reject him or tell him his feelings aren’t requited, a world where Hajime’s reply to finding out that Tooru was jerking off to the thought of him, while on a call with him, was whispering his first name. He repeats his own name to himself in a whisper, barely audible, and acts like it’s Hajime whispering his name as he presses his fingers as deep inside himself as he can, reaching his hand down again and pumping his cock with more dedication before,  _ feeling _ the exact moment he’s pushed over the edge as he comes, hot and sticky over his stomach and hand, his entire body tingling as he collapses on his futon, his rim convulsing around his fingers, and he can’t help but think that he probably could’ve taken more, that he’d definitely be able to take Hajime’s cock, and it’d feel so good for the both of them that Hajime would be just as overwhelmed as he’s feeling right now. Both his hands are sticky, and he reaches up for another tissue in the box on his table, but his fingers reach through thin air, and when he presses them inside the box to grab a tissue, it’s equally empty.

“Fuck,” he whispers, reaching up to dry his eyes with the underside of his palm, shaking his head. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he hisses, because he’s grown out of the habit of crying after jerking off, he’s gotten  _ over _ that point in his life where he was so ashamed of himself, but he’s gone too far this time, and he wants to dry the tears away, wants to dry the cum away that is slowly trickling down his stomach, sticky and warm, to forget that this has ever happened. 

He doesn’t want to move from his bed either, though, so he reaches out for one of the few things within his reach, a t-shirt lying by his bed, and wipes his hands off on it before he returns his attention to his stomach and cock, trying to wipe off the come with the fabric.

He doesn’t have time to react to the hasty steps up the stairs to his room before it’s too late, and when the door is basically kicked open and Hajime enters, Tooru can do nothing but stare up at him, wide eyed and sweaty, still feeling too dirty, but still not over his post-orgasm haze that makes him wonder if this is a dream.

“Tooru, what the fuck!” Hajime yells, closing the door behind him as Tooru tries to sit up, pressing the t-shirt down between his legs. Hajime follows the motion with his eyes. “Is—is that my t-shirt?” he asks, and Tooru looks down with a gasp, shaking his head.

“Oh my god, I didn’t see!” he cries out apologetically, because he  _ really  _ didn’t, and he throws the t-shirt to the side and pulling up his boxers, shaking his head. He recognises his own T-shirt on Hajime and remembers how Hajime did mention that on the call when Tooru was … distracted, but now that he’s sitting down, very quickly being pulled back to reality after his orgasm, he’s very aware of it again. Hajime walks over to Tooru and bows down, grabbing the collar of the t-shirt Tooru is wearing, pulling him closer. Tooru is too shocked to fight back and he’s pulled close, pressed right into a messy kiss where their teeth clacks and Tooru yelps when his lip is pinched uncomfortably between his own teeth and Hajime’s, but when Hajime grabs the back of his hair, probably already too ruffled and oily from how Tooru has been sweating, deepening the kiss, the pain is quickly forgotten. Hajime pulls back after a few seconds to let Tooru breathe - or, more precisely, gasp for air - and smiles at him.

“I love you, but you’re a fucking mess,” he says, and Tooru nods, staring at Hajime’s lips. They’re redder than usual, slightly puckered, and Hajime’s lips are just as flushed as Tooru imagines his own to be. Hajime pulls him back into a kiss, and Tooru has to admit one thing. Real life Hajime is way better at kissing than fantasy Hajime.

Hajime pulls back from the kiss, pressing his forehead against Tooru’s, and his skin is hot, just as sticky as Tooru’s from the heat, yet he doesn’t seem to mind. Tooru realises he must have run all the way over - not that they live that far from each other - and then he remembers the call. If Hajime wasn’t bothered by Tooru calling, then—well, maybe he was  _ bothered _ , but in a different way than Tooru had expected, one he likes quite a lot more. He leans back to look down at Hajime’s body, but the way he’s pressing his legs together, his upper body bowed down towards Tooru, makes it too hard for him to see if Hajime is actually sporting a hard-on, but now that the truth is out there, Tooru realises it doesn’t have to be that complicated.

“I’m happy I didn’t weird you out too much with that call,” Tooru says with a small smile, and Hajime raises an eyebrow before sitting down next to him on the bed, his leg pressing against Tooru’s knee.

“Well, it’s not something that happens everyday, but I think I took it quite well,” he says, smiling back. “I’m used to you being a weirdo,” he adds, and Tooru sticks his tongue out.

“So rude! And here I was, thinking you liked me back and didn’t mind it!” Tooru says, keeping his voice high, overly exasperated as he lies back down onto the bed, pressing his hair away from his face with his hand, drying off the sweat that has already collected there again. 

Hajime moves instantly, crawling over Tooru so they’re face to face again, smiling down at him. “Well, normally phone sex is a two way conversation, I think,” he says, his eyes focusing on Tooru’s lips instead of looking him in the eyes. Tooru takes his lower lip between his teeth, biting at it testingly, unable to do anything but stare up at Hajime’s face, noting the way his pupils dilate. “But you ended the call before I could really do anything,” Hajime adds, closing the space between them as he dips down, kissing Tooru, stopping him from biting his own lip but nibbling at it himself instead. Tooru gasps into his mouth, and when Hajime pulls back up again with a self-satisfied grin, Tooru can do nothing but stare up at him in awe.

“I think it’s your turn to call me now,” Tooru whispers, and just as he says it, the idea blossoms in his head. “Yeah,” he nods to himself, his smirk widening as he looks up at Hajime, who’s slowly processing the word. “Next time you touch yourself while thinking of me, call me,” he says. Hajime snorts.

“Who says I think about you while jerking off?” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and Tooru realises that he hasn’t  _ actually _ admitted to doing that quite yet. But if Hajime thinks Tooru doesn’t have another card up his sleeve, he doesn’t know him as well as he thinks.

“The dick pressed against my thigh,” Tooru answers lightly, and Hajime’s confident smirk falters as he collapses on top of Tooru, burying his face in the crook of Tooru’s neck with an embarrassed, uncharacteristically high-pitched whine.

“Oh my god,” he says, his hair tickling against Tooru’s ear, and Tooru reaches up, sliding his fingers over the back of Hajime’s neck with a smile.

“Like I said, it’s your turn,” Tooru says, and Hajime presses his nose against his throat with a grunt, pulling back with a face of disbelief as he sits up, straddling Tooru.

“This is your fault. You always do such weird things,” he says, looking down at Tooru with a nice blush spreading across his face from ear to ear. 

“You like it,” Tooru says, smiling up at Hajime, resting his hands on Hajime’s thighs, both of them on each side of his hips.

“Yeah. You still have to take responsibility, though,” Hajime says before dipping down, pressing his lips against Tooru’s once again. And Tooru finds that he doesn’t mind that at all.


End file.
